


I am sherlocked.....

by Lesphantom



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-15 16:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13617186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesphantom/pseuds/Lesphantom
Summary: Sherlock gets a new upstairs housemate... sent by Mycroft.





	1. Chapter 1

The room was pitch black when I walked in. I rolled my eyes and felt around for the light switch. Mycroft was behind his desk, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light.

“Must you do that?” said Mycroft.

“Must you sit in the dark?” I said.

“Fair enough... You're probably wondering why you're here, yes?”

“Mycroft, I always wonder why I am here. You always call me when I'm busy.”

“I need you to watch my brother...”

“The sociopath or the psychopath?”

“Sherlock.”

“Oh hell no! He might kill me.”

“He won't kill you.. He's not nearly as bad as I have said in the past. Dr. Watson has vacated his room in the apartment building across the way. I want you to rent out the room.”

“And I will get compensated?”

“Immensely.”

“You know I hate this.. I hate when you have me manipulate people and then deceive them..”

“Lucky for you, you won't have to I've told Sherlock about my 'new set of eyes.' He is intrigued.”

“You dick.”

“Arianna...”

“Mycroft..”

“He knows. He knows you are just like him.”

“I am NOT a sociopath...”

“But you are smart... Just like him.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my golden locks. My hazel eyes caught Mycroft's dull grey ones. I glanced down. He knew too much about me to refuse.

“Ok, Mycroft... You win.”

“Good. Get going.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stood and walked toward the door, when I heard Mycroft's voice. “Arianna? Good luck!”

“Yeah.. thanks...” I mumbled and walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The cab let me off at a very regal looking town home. The building itself was white with a black fence around it. The little bit of lawn that was around the building was very well manicured. I could smell the food cooking at the nearby cafe and my stomach grumbled.

Sighing, I approached the town home and noted the slightly scuffed door. It was painted black, matching the fence. The numbers 221B were in gold. The buzzers were old. There were signs of wear around the outside and the paint on the buttons were chipping.

I cautiously rang the bell and waited. Soon, the door was opened. Standing before me was an older woman in a flowered dress. Her hair was cropped short and it was reddish-blonde in colour. Her chocolate brown eyes twinkled as she spoke:

“Can I help you dearie?”

“Hi. I'm looking for a Mrs. Hudson?”

“That's me. Are you here about the room?”

“Yes...”

She clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “Oh that's wonderful!”

She ushered me inside as she shut the door. I took in the foyer. It was tiny. The floor was done in black and white checks. There was a set of stairs heading upward. The stairs were in pretty bad shape maintenance wise. A good coat of paint would do the walls justice as well. The handrailing was broken in a few places.

“I apologize for the state of the foyer, my dear. Sherlock tends to be a bit wild at times.”

“Sherlock?” I played dumb.

“The other tenant. He's a bit of a strange one.”

“My kind of guy...” I mumbled.

“Please follow me Miss...?”

“Smythe. Arianna Smythe.”

“Nice to meet you dear....”

“You as well Mrs. Hudson...”

“I apologize in advance for Sherlock. He means well but he tends to be a bit brash.”

I smiled. “I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Mrs. Hudson gave me a hard look. “He's a bit nuts...”

She walked up the seventeen stairs to the first floor. She knocked on the door but no one answered. Mrs. Hudson sighed and fished a set of keys out of her apron pocket. She pushed the door open and the sound of violin music flooded my senses. 'He's good...' I thought.

“Sherlock, we have a potential tenant.” 

From the far corner of the room, I saw a tall man drop the violin and walk over to us. His mop of dark, curly hair bounced as he walked. His blue-green eyes bore into my green ones. His eyebrow raised slightly as he looked me over. He held out his hand and shook mine.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

“Arianna Smythe. Pleasure.”

“Likewise. Do you have a problem with the violin or guns going off at 3 am?”

“Sherlock!!”

“Mrs. Hudson, she should know what she's getting into before she buys...”

“Mr. Holmes, violin playing does not bother me, neither do gunshots. Now, do you have a problem with flute playing or singing?”

Sherlock gave me the smallest of smiles and shook his head. “Skulls?”

“Love 'em. Halloween's my favorite holiday. I had a box of severed heads in my basement for years.”

Sherlock grinned widely. “Show her the place, Mrs. Hudson.”

Mrs. Hudson almost fell over. “What?”

“Show. Her. The. Place.”

“You approve?”

“Oh yes. And I think John will too..”

“If you say so.”

Sherlock had walked back to the corner of the room and picked up the violin once more. I watched his thin skinny fingers nimbly cover the strings as he lost himself in his playing. I grinned. He could play for me any day and I'd enjoy it. 

“Are you ready to see the rest of the place Arianna?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Hudson led me back up another flight of stairs and into another room. This one was slightly smaller than the previous room and had only two separate rooms and a bathroom whereas the other room had three room and a bathroom. In the far corner of the second room there was a bed and a small table with a lamp on it. On the opposite side of the room was a desk. The first room was a living room/ kitchen. I nodded as I looked around.

“Nice place.”

“Yes. This is the room you would be renting. It's not very big, but it's cozy.”

I smiled. “It's perfect.”

Mrs. Hudson smiled. “It will be so nice to have someone in here besides Sherlock. He's been so lonely since John left. He won't admit it but he's lonely.”

“If you don't mind me asking, Mrs. Hudson, why did he leave?”

“He got married. He wanted to live with his wife and work with Sherlock.”

“Oh.” 

“Poor Sherlock... The man is more lonely than he lets on. What he needs is a friend. Which is why I placed the ad... Sherlock's only other friend is Detective Inspector Lestrade who he doesn't trust much. And then there's Mycroft; his older brother. He, Sherlock I mean, despises the man.”

I glanced at my feet. Mycroft... That's why I was here... “Well, Mrs. Hudson, how much is this going to cost me.”

“250 pounds a month.”

“Not bad... I do believe you have a new tenant.”

“Splendid! Let me just run down and get the paperwork. Feel free to visit with Sherlock.”

I nodded and wandered down to Sherlock's flat. Violin music hit my ears. I stood very quietly in the doorway listening to Sherlock play. It was beautiful. He was lost in thought... or so I thought.

“You can come in Miss Smythe.” came Sherlock's voice.

I nodded. “I'm your new housemate, I guess.”

“I knew you'd agree.”

“Oh really? What else do you know about me?”

Sherlock spun around and laid the violin on a nearby table. He then took a good look at me. He then grinned and folded his hands. A smirk played on both of our faces.

“You're young. 25 to 27 at most. Very firey personality. Probably born in October. Unmarried, evidenced by the lack of a ring on your left hand and you are very possibly in a bad relationship considering you are touring a house on your own that is tenanted by a male. You wear glasses but it has been a while since your last eye exam. Your clothes reflect that you're more of a tomboy than a lady. One reason; Pant suit. Second reason; Your hair is always up never down. Good relationship with your parents. You work where you are almost always on your feet which makes you constantly shift weight from one foot to the other. Your very musically inclined as we already discussed. You play more than just the flute though. This is evidenced by your fingernails being cut short. You also have calluses on your fingers which means you play some type of stringed instrument. And you have met my brother...”

“Damn you're good.”

“Mycroft informed me you'd be here... to spy on me.”

“I'm not telling him anything.”

“You really think you can keep secrets from him?”

“I can try. You know he's obsessed with your life, right?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Little rat...”

I laughed. “That's Mycroft. I don't know how haven't killed the bastard yet...”

“So why do you work for him?”

“He pays well...” I lied.

“He pays well?” scoffed Sherlock. “Do you know what he calls you Arianna?”

“No...”

“He calls you his pet.”

“His WHAT?!”

Sherlock raised a brow as I started to breathe to calm down. “I am not his pet.” I said through clenched teeth.

“Calm down Arianna. Mycroft tells me you're a lot like me. Prove it.”

Sherlock sat on a nearby chair and I sighed and concentrated on him. After a few minutes, I took a stroll around him on the chair as a ruse. I smirked at him.

“Name: Sherlock Scott Holmes, Age: roughly late twenties early thirties. More than likely born in December or January... No.. definitely January. You've been playing the violin for a long while... probably since 7th or 8th grade... Nowadays, you only play when you're thinking or depressed... You sometimes talk to a skull to get your thoughts out in the open. You rarely sleep, evidenced by the dark circles under your eyes. Science was your best subject in school and you still use what you learned... You are easily bored by mundane and dull things. You constantly crave nicotine and enjoy smoking. I can see the nicotine patches on your forearm. It helps you focus your thoughts better as do... other drugs. Television bores and at times upsets you. Your hair hasn't been washed in precisely 2 days due to a particularly long case you've worked with I'm assuming Detective Inspector Lestrade. You've got what looks like a...head, a jar of eyeballs and toes in the kitchen and you experiment using similar tools frequently.”

“Nicely done!” said Sherlock, smiling.

Mrs. Hudson knocked at the door and entered. “Ready for you dearie...”

“Excuse me a moment, Mr. Holmes.”

“Sherlock, if you please, Arianna.”

I smiled. “Sherlock.”

I followed Mrs. Hudson to my new flat and signed the papers in the tiny kitchen. 

“He likes you you know.” said Mrs. Hudson.

“What?”

“Sherlock. He likes you. I've had four other people come in to look at the flat. He's turned them all down before I could show them the upstairs.”

As I signed my life away, I grinned. Sherlock wasn't too bad. A lot better than Mycroft was the first time I'd met him. Talk about psychopathic...

“Sherlock's not bad so far...” I said.

“So far..” echoed Mrs. Hudson.

I laughed. “Yes, so far.”

Mrs. Hudson neatly clipped the papers I signed together and gave me a hug. “Welcome to 221B Baker Street, Arianna.”

“Thank you Mrs.Hudson.”

“You may move in whenever you wish.” 

“Thanks Mrs. Hudson.”

“I'll even convince Sherlock to help you move.”

“Like hell you will!” came Sherlock's voice from downstairs.

I laughed as did Mrs. Hudson. I heard footsteps come up the stairs and Sherlock entered my new flat.

“I'm not being roped into moving Arianna's stuff in and you can't make me.”

“You WILL help her move because you are a gentleman.”

“Am not..”

“Then you're a lady?” I said.

Mrs. Hudson held back a laugh. Sherlock, on the other hand, turned toward me. His eyes bore into mine yet I held my ground. He stepped closer and I took a step forward too.

“Try me Mr. Holmes. I don't have much to move.”

Sherlock smirked. “Alright fine... I will help you.”

I looked at him and grinned. “You aren't gonna help me. You forget, Mr. Holmes, I can read you just as well as you can read me. Don't try to play games with me Sherlock. You won't win.”

With that I brushed past him and walked out the door. I hailed a cab and headed to my lonely flat to get my things.


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning I received a text message from an unfamiliar number. Groaning, I had rolled over and looked at my phone. I immediately woke up. 

Are you moving in today?  
SH

I grinned as I realized who the text was from. Sherlock. I texted back:

'Twas my plan. How'd you get my number anyway?  
AS

I decided to get up and get dressed. I slowly moved around my flat, throwing some more things in boxes as I went. I ran a brush through my blonde locks and tied it into a ponytail. I threw on a black t-shirt and jeans. I tossed what was left in the bathroom into a nearby box and folded the lid shut. I hen heard a ding come from my phone.

I stole your renters agreement from Mrs. Hudson. It had your mobile number on it. I thought I would help you move.  
SH

I laughed as I texted back : “Brat! I suppose I can allow you to have my phone number. And you? Help me move? Didn't you say yesterday that you weren't going to help me?  
AS

I began carrying boxes to the door as I waited for his response. I had packed most of my things the night before. I was just getting prepared. I was due to pick up a truck to transport all of my stuff. I heard my phone ding and I dropped the box I was carrying on the pile and pulled out my phone.

I decided to help you out of the kindness of my English heart.  
SH

I laughed and shook my head: 

From what Mycroft told me you don't have a heart. But I can manage. I'm renting a truck a little later and I should be there some time this afternoon.  
AS

I threw my phone on the couch and started collecting up my movies. The couch and entertainment center were going to be a bitch to move. I shrugged as I threw the picture of my parents in the box labled “Entertainment Center Shit”. My phone dinged. 'Persistant little bugger....' I thought.

Are you sure?  
SH

Concern? From SHERLOCK? Hmmm... maybe Mycroft was wrong. Maybe Sherlock wasn't heartless... I texted back:

The only things I might need help with is the couch and entertainment center. But I think I can muscle those in... I loathe packing... Stupid boxes.  
AS

I sighed and put the rest of the entertainment center stuff in the box. I glanced in every room of the flat making sure I got everything. I started taking newspapers and wrapping the breakable stuff in the kitchen when yet again my phone dinged.

You're going to move a couch and an entertainment center by yourself? Don't be daft! I'll come help. Why don't you swing by on your way to get the truck?  
SH

I sighed. I guess I could used the extra hands... Plus it would be a chance to get to know Sherlock a little more. I smiled. 'Oh what the hell.' I thought.

Ok sure. I apologize in advance for the state of my current flat.  
AS

Sighing, I decided to tidy up a bit before I brought Sherlock over. Not that he'd be scrutinizing the flat I was leaving. No, he'd be scrutinizing my packing skills. My phone dinged once more and I contemplated changing the ringtone.

No need to tidy up. If you are like me, I know that's what you'll be doing about now.  
SH

Dammit! How can he be so damn perceptive! I tossed my phone on the counter and walked to the master bedroom in the back. I groaned audibly. I flopped on the bed and heard my phone ding. 'Go away Sherlock!' I thought.

I stood up and walked to the kitchen. I glanced at the clock under the TV. 12:30 already?! I walked into the kitchen and put the tea kettle on... before I realized I had packed the tea... 'Shit.' I thought. I angrily threw the tea kettle in the sink. I looked at my phone. 'Oh fine.' 

I'm getting rather peckish. Let's have lunch.  
SH

I sighed and threw my hands up. 'I give! Why not!'

Sure, where? And how did you guess the cleaning thing?  
AS

I held my phone in my hand and walked to the couch. I lay on the couch and placed the phone on my chest. I closed my eyes and heard my stomach growl. 'Guess I missed breakfast then...' I heard my phone ding and grabbed it off my chest.

Speedy's. Right by the house. I'll wait for you outside.  
SH

I nodded and grabbed my jacket. I slipped my shoes on and headed out. I got a cab relatively quickly and told him where to go. I arrived at Speedy's and saw a very bored looking Sherlock Holmes playing on his phone. I paid the cab driver and walked over to Sherlock.

“You're late.” said Sherlock, not even looking up.

“I most certainly am not I left right after I got your text.”

He smirked. “Let's eat. The smell is nauseating...”

“Fine by me.”

We walked into the cafe and got a small table in the back corner. Sherlock faced the window and I took the seat opposite him.

“So how far off was I yesterday?” said Sherlock.

“I was born in November and I am currently unattached. How off was I?”

“I'm 28.” said Sherlock.

“You're pretty good.”

“As are you.”

“I thank you.”

A waiter approached out table and gave us some menus. I ordered a water and Sherlock ordered a coffee with two sugars. The waiter then sauntered away.

“Mrs. Hudson likes you.”

“She's a sweet lady. She must mean a lot to you.”

“Mm... How can you tell?”

“There was a certain sweetness in your temperment yesterday. Even when you were yelling.”

“I'm slipping then.” Sherlock mumbled.

I grinned. “She's a second mother to you. It's written all over your face. Surely you noticed...”

Sherlock stared at me before smirking. “You really are good.”

I laughed. “Not as good as you or your brother.”

“Mycroft has some experience on us...”

“Mycroft is an asshole who blackmails people to get what he wants.”

“See? Firey personality.”

I gave him a look. He smiled and tossed his scarf on the back of his chair.

“Mr. Holmes?”

“Sherlock.... I told you yesterday to call me, Sherlock.”

“I didn't listen. Anyway, I was wondering why you turned down four other potential tenants before me.”

“They were boring. You, on the other hand, Miss Smythe, are intriguing.”

“How so?”

“I can't read you as well as I read most people.”

“You did a good job yesterday.”

“Normally I know more.”

I grinned. “You want to hear my life story Sherlock?”

He smiled. “I do have all day...”

“I am an American.”

“Bull shit.”

“See if I'm lying Sherlock.” I tossed him a little pamphlet, which he snatched up and quickly read.

“Damn... your accent is flawless...”

I grinned and spoke in my normal American accent. “Thank you kindly, Sherlock. Anyway my family constantly moved about America until I was about 15. Then my dad's company transferred us to London. Under Mycroft... Dad landed me a job working with Mycroft. Little did I know, I would be working as his personal bitch.”

“You didn't have a choice?”

At that point our waiter returned with our drinks. Shelock mumbled something about coffee and water not taking this long and ordered fish and chips. I held in a laugh and ordered soup and a sandwich.

I cleared my throat and answered Sherlock's question. “You know Mycroft, no is not an answer with him.”

Sherlock nodded. “Continue.”

I sighed, taking a sip of my water. “So I became Mycroft's bitch. I went everywhere he asked me to go for close to ten years now. I learned how to play the flute, bass guitar and a little bit of the violin on some of the more boring missions and I've always sang... not well but I sang. It keeps me focused. But I digress. Mycroft sent me to watch you for what he claims is an immense amount of money.”

“So that's it.”

“Yep. That about sums it up.”

“Details, woman! I want details!”

“And I want a ferarri. We can't all get what we want.”

Sherlock threw his empty sugar packets at me. I laughed and shrugged. 

“Sorry, Sherlock... I can't give you details. It's classified.”

“I have connections.”

“Sherlock...”

“Ugh! Fine! I'll wait...”

“So Sherlock, what's with the lunch invite?”

“I was hungry and bored Mrs. Hudson doesn't want me to take the skull out in public to talk to so you'll have to do...”

“Great self-esteem booster, Mr. Holmes. I'm second-best to a freakin' skull.”

Sherlock smiled. “This arrangement should work nicely.”

“Why? Cuz we're both psychopaths?”

Sherlock gave me a glare. “I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Get it right!”

I grinned widely. Sherlock shook his head and let out a little chuckle.

“I don't think you're a sociopath like Mycroft claims you are... you're just a little... different.”

“Different? Like a freak?”

“Donovan calls you that, too?”

Sherlock nodded. “She's a piece of work...”

“That's putting it lightly.. and nicely...”

Sherlock nodded. “Worthless in every sense of the word.”

I laughed. At that point our food arrived and we dug in. We were both quiet while we ate and on a few occasions I caught him staring. 'Probably trying to figure you out further...' I thought

“So how was your meal?” Sherlock said.

“Filling...surprisingly.” I said.

Sherlock chuckled and paid for lunch. He retrieved his scarf from the chair and tied it around his neck.

“Are you ready to get a truck?” said Sherlock.

“Yeah,” I said, standing.

I hadn't realized how tall Sherlock was. Of course I was only five foot six inches, but he had to be at least six foot two or three. And those eyes... holy crap... Sherlock raised a brow.

“Arianna?”

“What? Oh.. um... sorry... blanked out there for a sec...”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Shall we then?”

“Yeah, but I'm paying for the cab and buying you dinner.”

Sherlock scoffed. “Why?”

“It's a bribery attempt...”

Sherlock laughed. “Okay, you win... for now...”

I laughed as we walked outside. I hailed a cab and told him where to go. Sherlock was sitting on the right side and I was on the left. We rode on in silent awkwardness. I heard an unfamiliar dinging and saw Sherlock typing rather quickly on his phone.

“Do you mind if John tags along?”

“Not at all. I'd love to meet the previous owner of my flat...”

“Good, because I've already told him to meet us at the truck rental place.”

“I figured... You aren't one to ask permission before doing something.”

Sherlock's phone dinged. “He's on his way.”

“Ok.”

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Sherlock was shaking my shoulder. “Sorry.” I mumbled.

“Quite alright Miss Smythe.”

I saw a blonde man make his way over to us. He shook Sherlock's hand and walked over to me. 

“Hello! I'm John Watson. I'm Sherlock's partner.”

“Pleased to meet you.. I'm Arianna Smythe. I'm renting out your old flat...” The Brittish accent was back.

“Nice to meet you Arianna.”

“Please, call me Ari. Arianna is entirely too formal.”

John smiled and ushered me to the warmth of the indoors. Sherlock was already talking to someone about renting a truck. John rolled his eyes and walked over. I followed, listening intently. 

“...The best I can do is 20 pounds per hour for the kind of truck you're requesting...”

“Come now sir! Surely you can do better than that! 15 pounds at least...”

I took a moment to deduce him. Age 43-45. Stressed at his job or at home... or both.. More than likely at home though. Tattoo of a woman's name on his left forearm... wife.. .or lover? Bags under the eyes, indication of lake of sleep.. It hit me. Sherlock chose this salesman because he was desperate for a sale. I chuckled to myself.

“Please, sir, you can't tell anyone I am giving you this rate.. If anyone finds out...”

“No one will know.” Sherlock said, smiling.

He looked over at me with a smile and I laughed. John looked at me. He then walked over to me.

“What is he doing?” John whispered.

“Using this guy to get a better rate on the truck.”

“How?”

“The man is sleep-deprived ans his clothes are dissheveled. He's in a very bad way. He's probably already at risk for losing his job if he doesn't get a few good sales. Sherlock, I'm sure, knows this and is exploiting it for all it's worth. In this case it's getting a five pound deduction off of the price an hour.”

“Well... should I interfere?”

“If you want to incur Sherlock's wrath then sure.”

John sighed and leaned against a wall, watching Sherlock work. I walked up alongside Sherlock as he dissheveled man rang him up. I stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear.

“I hope this is ethical, Sherlock.”

He smirked and leaned down to me. “Ethical, yes... It's called bartering, Arianna”

“Ari... call me Ari...”

Sherlock smiled and turned back to the paperwork. I looked around and found John flipping through a pamphlet on winterizing vehicles. I decided to lean with my back to the window. 

“I'll run and pull the truck around for you.” said the clerk as Sherlock finished signing his life away.

Sherlock simply nodded and walked over to John and I. John looked up from his pamphlet and then back down again. He rolled his eyes and walked over by me.

“So you're driving once we get out of here.” said Sherlock.

“Understandable. You don't know where you're going...”

“No, I don't drive in London.” said Sherlock.

“Chicken...” I said, smirking.

“In this case I am proud to admit that.” said Sherlock.

I laughed. “Mr. Holmes, what are we to do with you...”

“Put up with his shananigans until he tells us to bugger off.” said John.

I laughed. Sherlock glared at his partner. John held up his hands in defense. Sherlock sighed and rested his head against the glass. I quirked a brow.

“You ok?” I asked.

“Yes. I'm fine.” said Sherlock.

“He here yet?”

“No.”

I leaned my back against the window and the awkward silence resumed. The man eventually came back with the truck. Sherlock nodded and headed outside, John and I following close behind. Sherlock shook the clerk's hand again and climbed in. The clerk passed us mumbling under his breath. John and I exchanged glances and I shrugged. We jogged to the truck and I jumped into the driver's seat.

“You do know how to drive right?”

“Yes, Dr. Watson.”

“On the left side of the road?” said Sherlock with a grin

“Sherlock!!”

“It's ok, John... I'm an American.”

“We're doomed.”

“Thanks for the votes of confidence guys.” American accent.

I pulled the truck out of the parking lot and into traffic. John calmed down the minute we started into traffic. Sherlock shook his head and leaned back on the seat, eyes closed. I laughed a few moments later when Sherlock's head lolled to the window. He was asleep.

“Glad I'm not the only one...” I whispered.

“What'd you do to him?” John said, smiling.

“I broke him.” I said.

“He's a pretty deep sleeper. Hope we can wake him...”

Sherlock grunted and pulled his coat tighter around him and then snored. 

“Yep. He's out. Worse comes to worse, he can sleep here and I can move my stuff by myself. That was my plan anyway.”

“You've got me too you know..”

“I didn't want to make you do it against your will..”

John smiled. “That was thoughtful of you...”

“Eh...”

John chuckled. “No wonder Sherlock approved of you... You're just as nuts as he is..”

“I don't know whether to take that as a complement or an insult...”

“Hmmm.. both..”

I laughed. “A complementing insult.”

“Yes.” John said with a smile. “A complementing insult!”

The rest of the ride as quiet except for Sherlock's semi-quiet snoring. We arrived at the apartment building soon after. John and I exited the truck and began loading my things into it. 

“Nice apartment.” said John, carrying a box of movies.

“Except for the upstairs neighbor it's fine.... My God does he make a lot of noise!”

John chuckled. “What about the bed, entertainment center and couch?”

“I'm gonna move them... eventually....” I said.

“Hmmm... I think we should make our detective friend appear so he can help us.”

I nodded and went out to the truck. I reached the passenger side and peered in the window. Sherlock had stretched out on the full seat and he was using his jacket as a blanket. I laughed as John came up along side me. He let out a chuckle.

“We should wake him.... Watch out for stuff to come flying at you.”

“ME?! Why me?”

“Because he likes you...”

“Grrr.” I said.

“Sorry.” said John.

I opened the door and lightly shook Sherlock. Nothing. I shook him harder. Still nothing. I shook him and said his name multiple times before he groaned and his eyes opened.

“What the--- Oh shit! I fell asleep didn't I?” Sherlock said.

“I was expecting a shoe to the head, so I would assume so....” I said.

“Yes...” said John.

“Damn! You two didn't wake me?”

“No...” said John.

“There's a shortage of perfect shoes....”

Sherlock chuckled. 

“In all seriousness, you looked like you needed sleep. I couldn't wake you.” I said.

“I guess I did. That last case was a doozy. Thanks, Arianna.”

“I told you to call me, Ari, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock smiled and sat up in the seat. He swung his legs out an hopped down on the street throwing his coat over his shoulders. He walked into my apartment, noting the things that still needed to be moved.

“So, what first? The couch, the entertainment center, or the bed?” said Sherlock.

“The bed would be easiest, because I could dismantle it. However, the couch is sort of just a pick up and throw it into the back of the truck kind of deal. Whereas, the entertainment center is a sonuva bitch to move...” I said, quickly.

John stared and Sherlock grinned. Sherlock steepled his hands as he paced about my living room. I grinned as well and walked to the back room.

“So, you've chosen the bed then?” said John, from the doorway.

“No... I'm just removing the sheets.” I said, pulling my zillion pillows off the the bed and tossing them on the floor.

“That's not a bed. That's a giant pillow.” said Sherlock, grinning at me from the opposite side of the door.

“Very funny. I love my pillows. So sue me.” I said.

“Have you decided what your plan is yet, Miss Smythe?” said Sherlock.

“God dammit, Sherlock! Call me Ari. Not Arianna, not Miss Smythe, just Ari!” I exploded.

John's eyes widened. Sherlock simply grinned. My eyes narrowed and I threw my sheets in a box. I walked to the couch and waited for John and Sherlock to show up. Soon, Sherlock entered the room, his smile growing wider, followed by a timid John.

“I choose the couch.” I said, trying to calm down.

I grabbed the couch cushions and headed outside to the truck. I then placed them around a few boxes of glasses. I turned and John was near the bottom of the truck bed. 

“You ok?” said John.

“Yeah. He's just infuriating me right now.”

“That's Sherlock.”

I sat on the edge of the truck. “I asked him repeatedly to call me Ari.”

“He's a formal kind of guy. That's just him.”

“I kinda blew up huh?”

“Yeah... a little.”

“Sorry.”

“It's ok. Now let's go get a couch.”

I laughed and hopped down. Sherlock was standing in the doorway. He shot me an apologetic smile. I shot him a grin back.

“Sorry...” I mumbled.

“Don't worry about it.” said Sherlock.

“Couch?”

“You are like me... I would have chosen either the couch or the entertainment center. The bed could serve as padding for the other two.”

“My thoughts exactly. Also the pillows off my bed make good padding.”

“Excellent!!” said Sherlock.

I smiled. “Glad you approve!” 

For the next hour, Sherlock, John and I moved the couch, the entertainment center and my bed, plus the zillion pillows into the back of the truck. Sherlock let out a sigh as he leaned against the back of the truck. 

“And you were going to do this alone?” said Sherlock.

“I could have handled it.” I mumbled.

“Sure...” said John. “And then you would have been visiting my office for a herniated disk.”

Sherlock laughed. I stared at the boys for a moment before smiling.

“Actually, I was thinking it would be about my plantar facitis acting up again.” I said.

“Really?” said John.

“Yeah.” I said.

“Well, we're about done here, yes?” said Sherlock.

“Yeah, just about... lemme make sure I didn't forget anything.” I said.

I roamed around the now vacant apartment. I opened the cupboard under the sink and found a box I had forgotten; the booze. I lifted the hefty box into my arms. I gently placed the box of assorted booze in the truck and Sherlock raised a brow.

“I get stressed!!!” I said.

“Uh huh...” said Sherlock.

“Sherlock...”

“Do you have any absinthe?” 

“Um... yeah. My ex and I bought a couple of bottles once and he hated it. He let me keep his bottle when we broke up.”

“Your opinion of it?”

“Not bad. Not my favorite drink, but it's not bad. I drink it when I'm mad or stressed. It lets me forget for a while.”

Sherlock's eyes held a glint I hadn't seen before. He grinned widely and wrapped an arm around me.

“We're going to be good friends, Ari.” Sherlock said.

“Oh, I know.” I said, grinning.

“Lord, help me...” said John.

Sherlock laughed releasing his hold on me. John and I climbed back into the truck and Sherlock followed suit. I drove back to Baker Street and parked outside.


End file.
